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They’re lying in bed, curled up facing one another with their heads bent in close and speaking in low voices because it feels safer somehow, even though they’re in their own flat and no one else is around.
It’s new that they’ve started talking like this, openly discussing fantasies and kinks. Sure, they’ve been having sex for years, but they were nervous teens navigating firsts, and then long distance and worried only about fucking as much as possible when they were in the same place. Now that they finally live together, they have the time and space to really explore, without worries about roommates or parents or needing to catch a train.
And god, they have so many fantasies: so many things they’ve dreamed of and gotten off to during all those nights when they were hours apart.
Nick blushes as he talks, still nervous whenever he brings up something that feels scary or taboo, even though neither of them has ever reacted with anything less than love and a desire to understand.
“I mean, I know I can’t get pregnant,” he says, cheeks flaming. “But I still like the idea of being … bred.”
Charlie’s hand comes up to gently comb through Nick’s fringe, pushing it back off his forehead and then scratching gently at his scalp in a way he knows soothes the blond. “Can you tell me what that would look like to you?” Charlie asks.
“Like … you fucking me and coming inside me and,” he pauses briefly before continuing even more quietly, “and talking about how you’re going to knock me up and how good I’ll look when my stomach is big and round with your baby.”
Charlie’s hand pauses in its movement, but his thumb keeps sweeping back and forth across Nick’s temple. He’s quiet for a while, considering.
Nick fights the urge to squirm anxiously while he waits for his boyfriend to speak. He trusts Charlie not to leave him hanging or shame him, but he doesn’t know whether this will be something Charlie is even willing to try.
“Do you … ever wish you could get pregnant?” It’s not at all what Nick expects to be asked, and he’s thrown for a moment.
“I think about it sometimes,” he says finally. “I don’t think I really want to, but the words just kind of … I dunno. I don’t know how to explain why I like it.”
“That’s okay,” Charlie tells him. “I might need some help learning what words work for you, but I’m willing to give it a go.”
“Yeah?”
Charlie nods against the pillow.
“I can make a list for you,” Nick says. “And then we can talk about it more?”
Charlie smiles softly. His hand moves around to the nape of Nick’s neck, and then he slides across the pillow to kiss Nick gently.
When they finally settle down to sleep, Nick turns onto his back and Charlie rests his head on the blond’s chest. Fingers drift idly over Nick’s bare stomach in endless patterns.
“What are you thinking about,” Nick asks eventually, knowing that restless hands usually mean Charlie is contemplating.
“What you would look like pregnant,” Charlie says honestly.
“Oh.”
“I think sometimes I wish we could have kids that were biologically both of ours.”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “Me too. But whatever kids we do have, no matter how they come into our lives … we’re going to love them so much.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“One day,” Nick says.
“Yeah,” Charlie says with a yawn. “One day.”